Rival's Challenge

Something unwelcome lanced Orla, a reminder of reality. And she pushed it down, deep. She scowled at Antonio, who was looking far too innocent. And gorgeous. His tan had deepened even more in the sun, making him look even more darkly sexy.

He reached out a hand and his thumb touched her lower lip, tugging it gently. His eyes were on her mouth and then lifted to hers. They’d gone dark, smoky. ‘I think I prefer you like this … sweaty and a little grimy. No make-up.’

The flutters increased in Orla’s belly. She preferred him like this too. All elemental and wild. A man of nature. The distance between reality and this place increased tenfold.

He pulled her over to him and she went willingly. He lifted her so that her legs straddled his hips and she could feel him pushing against her body. When they kissed, it felt deep enough to drown in.

Antonio put out a hand to pull Orla up from the rock a short while later. His chest felt tight. The sun had already turned her hair more russet and golden. Freckles had exploded across her nose and cheeks. No make-up. Skin shiny from suncream. Creased and dust-stained vest top and shorts. He couldn’t believe that she’d willingly come on this hike with him today; she’d jumped at it. And she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen in his life.

He’d only just managed to pull back from stripping off her shorts and taking her right here, like two primal animals. Arousal was heavy in his body.

She stood up and glanced at him with that half-belligerent look that said, What? She was still grouchy from being pulled back from the brink. He smiled and he realised that he’d probably smiled more with this woman than he had … perhaps in his whole life.

An impulse came to him then and he acted on it before he could think about it. ‘I want to show you something.’

‘OK.’

Antonio’s chest went tighter. OK. Just that. No moaning about dusk drawing in or the fact that she had to be tired and hot and sweaty.

Before he could change his mind, Antonio pulled Orla through a gap in the nearby bushes, until they emerged into another clearing. She stood beside him on the bluff. This had another equally stunning vista out over Saint-Raphaël, and he felt Orla’s hand squeeze his. ‘It’s beautiful.’

Antonio knew that he could very easily just pretend that he wanted to show her the view. But he wanted to tell her. ‘Do you see that long low building down there?’

He pointed to a building almost covered over with trees. Orla shaded her eyes, brought her view back into the land. She pointed too. ‘The place that looks like a monastery … or a convent?’

It had a church steeple on one end.

‘Yes, that’s it. I bought it about a year ago.’

‘Oh … OK. Why?’

Antonio deliberately kept his gaze from hers; he could feel her looking at him. ‘I want to open it, as a centre to help rehabilitate soldiers after their experiences at war … in conflict zones. It needs a lot of work though, as I’d like it to double up as a medical facility for physiotherapy rehab too. It’ll be a couple of years before it’s even close to functional.’

Orla was quiet and Antonio was grateful. He’d noticed her glancing at his patchwork of scars at various moments, but she’d said nothing. Most of his other lovers seemed to have a desire to know the lurid details when he knew they would get sick into their designer handbags if he told them the true facts.

Eventually she said huskily, ‘It’s a beautiful place for such a facility.’

He stared down at her and almost lost his footing; her eyes were like sapphires. ‘Yes … it is.’

To his intense relief she didn’t ask any more about it and Antonio felt a little light-headed.

He’d bought it out of gut instinct. A desire to help others when he’d struggled alone to cope with his own demons in the aftermath of walking away from the Legion.

‘Come on … we should head back before it gets too dark.’

Just before Antonio turned, Orla squeezed his hand again.

‘Thanks … for showing me.’

Antonio pulled her from the bluff before she could see how off-centre he felt.

Much later that evening, after they’d returned from the arduous hike and showered together which had inevitably led to spending even more time in the shower, they were sitting outside on the terrace near the pool, drinking wine. Orla looked at Antonio and his face was turned away, giving her his strong and patrician profile. So proud.

The urge to know about him was almost overwhelming. ‘Why did you leave, in the end?’

She saw him tense, predictably. He turned his face to hers. He was wearing a white shirt that was haphazardly buttoned, showing the magnificence of his broad chest. Shorts. Hair messy and overlong.

‘The Legion?’